


Going Places

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Brick (2005), Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You never did learn to let the little things go,<br/>You never did learn to let me be,<br/>You never did learn to let little people grow,<br/>You never did learn how to see...<br/>You did always say that people get their pay<br/>You did always say that I was going places<br/>And that you wouldn't have it any other way.<br/>"Blackberry Stone" by Laura Marling</p><p>Fusion of "Inception" and "Brick" for the prompt <a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/19632.html?thread=46603952#t46603952">It's been a long time since his high school days, since bricks and bulls and dealers and girls face down in culverts. Arthur's shed the speeches and the glasses. Not much scares him these days except Ariadne. And that's because he can't tell if she's his new Emily (he'll fail to save) or another Laura (the femme fatale who is absolutely no good for him or anyone else).</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Places

Arthur prided himself on being the best in the business. He could talk people around, run them in circles if he had to, take a beating if necessary and stay at least two steps ahead of the competition, with at least a half dozen escape routes and back up plans. People were easy to categorize for the most part, which made it fairly easy to predict the patterns of behavior that would follow. Arthur had always been able to guess at the motives of others, extrapolate what was necessary to stay alive from there. He had been doing it long before he had met Cobb, though the extractor's antics had honed his skills to a razor's edge. Eames was wrong, of course. He had plenty of imagination. He simply used it to imagine a dozen different disasters at once and plan his way out of it.

Following the Fischer job, he was at loose ends. He worked a few minor jobs, snatch and grab situations that took little planning and didn't really distract him as much as he wanted.

Too much out of sorts, he kept tabs on the fallout of the Fischer job. It took, of that he had been certain as soon as the plane touched down in LA. The formal results of the inception took months to fully play out, however. Fischer had broken apart his father's company and then afterward quietly checked himself into an upscale psychiatric facility for treatment of depression. Because of that, he looked into the rest of the team. Yusuf was alive and well in Mombasa, happily creating unique cocktails of various chemicals for various buyers. As far as Arthur could tell, not all of them were involved in dream share. He seemed just fine, though he hadn't gone that far into Fischer's mind for the job. Arthur felt the same as ever, so his concern was reserved more for the others. Eames was in Buenos Aires on a job, and as far as rumors went the forger hadn't changed one bit. Cobb was happily taking care of his children, and had been pleased to hear from Arthur to catch up.

That left Ariadne, and Arthur had been almost afraid to try to contact her. Though she was Cobb's find, Arthur felt almost responsible for her. He had been the one to truly explain dream share to her, to show her the basics of paradoxical architecture and to outline the scope of what her role could be. The Fischer job had been her first, and she was practically a student still. She didn't know how to truly protect herself in the dream share world, yet Arthur soon found out that she was making overtures to getting a few low profile jobs. He could only imagine that she got referrals through Cobb or Eames. Those were the only two that she knew other than Arthur, after all, and Arthur hadn't passed along any names.

He found himself in Paris later that summer, sitting at a café not too far from her tiny apartment drinking expensive coffee and eating a crepe he didn't really want. Arthur wasn't sure what he was actually doing there, exactly. He had done three simple jobs to keep busy, and she hadn't done any yet. She was calling people, though. It would get her noticed sooner or later; dream share was too small a community to really avoid all of the true players. She was an innocent as far as the business went, and he couldn't stand the thought that it could destroy her. While he hadn't thought of her as fragile during their time together, she wasn't the kind of woman that could break others if it meant her safety. Following Cobb into the dream was proof of that.

So if she wasn't ruthless or heartless, she was going to be a victim. He couldn't allow that.

Arthur really didn't evaluate his motives on that point too closely. He was in Paris again, in a place where she would easily see him. He hadn't given her his contact information after the Fischer job, hoping she would realize that the field was out of her depth and stay in the real world. His first thought on seeing her in person, however, was _I was wrong._

Ariadne was gloriously alive, her hair loosely tied back into a wild ponytail. She was wearing layered tank tops, one white and one blue, skinny jeans and those boots she always favored. A blue plastic bangle was around one wrist, her chunky watch on the other. Arthur's heart clenched painfully at the sight of the bangle. Her pouty lips were drawn back in a smile as she read a text on her phone, and she paused outside of her apartment building to answer it. She looked up as she put the phone into one pocket of her jeans, its outline clearly visible. Her eyes widened in recognition. "Arthur?" she asked in disbelief, then moved to cross the street.

He gave her a smile, though it clearly startled her further. He knew what she would see. There was the usual slicked back, neat hair. He had a fairly serious face as a matter of course, but his real smile tended to break that and make him appear much younger. His eyes would crinkle and there was even a dimple. He was dressed down in a green polo shirt and wore brown slacks and loafers. They were all higher quality than was strictly necessary for the neighborhood, though he would have adamantly denied that he was trying to impress her.

"Coffee?" he asked when she was standing in front of him.

"I never thought I'd see you again," she said, an almost disbelieving note in her voice.

"I thought I'd be cautious, since that last job was a little higher profile than usual. But there's been no word that anyone suspects anything, and there are no whispers in the community about it." Arthur gestured to the seat across from him. "So it should be safe now. Or are you busy?'

He could tell that she was torn; she didn't like his presumption at deciding things for her, but was willing to admit to herself that she ought to bow to his expertise. "I was going to meet up with a few friends from school at the museum," she said slowly. Her hands rested on the back of the chair opposite him, and she chewed on her lower lip as she contemplated him.

As he had predicted, she sat down and then took out her phone to text her friends. "I'm telling them I'm going to be a little late. I don't plan to ditch them," she warned him.

"I wouldn't expect you to," he told her honestly. "You could have a coffee with me, or perhaps I could go with you."

Ariadne frowned at him. "They'd wonder who you are."

"Just say we met at your work placement. I ran into you and wanted to talk about a possible job offer," Arthur offered, glad that she was exercising some caution.

She froze in surprise. "Job offer? What is it?"

Arthur openly grinned at her and sipped his coffee. "Well, I don't have anything set in stone right now, but I was looking around. Interested in what I come up with?"

"Definitely," Ariadne replied, nodding enthusiastically. "I can't stand the bureaucratic nightmares involved in real world design anymore."

Grin unwavering, Arthur nodded. "I'm only taking simple things at the moment, so it won't be anywhere near as complex as your first one."

"It'll be like entering a firm," Ariadne told him with a shrug. "I wouldn't get the high profile projects there, either. I'd have to work up to them."

"Good attitude," he said approvingly. "So... Do you have time to catch up a bit? Or do you have to go right away?"

"I said I was running late," Ariadne explained. She tapped her fingers on the table, and the café's waiter approached. That seemed to decide things for her, as she ordered a coffee. "One coffee," she said in a warning tone.

Arthur merely smiled.

***

Arthur mentioned to one of his contacts in Morocco that he knew a brilliant architect without any Interpol watchers, and immediately there was a job for them. It wasn't a terribly difficult extraction, and he could see sheer joy in Ariadne's expression as she walked them through the level. It was as flawless as Arthur promised the extractor, and he knew that it would start building her reputation.

"I like working with you," Ariadne admitted as they walked through a side portion of the maze. She was pointing out the weapons caches she had built into it, and Arthur was drawn to the delicate structure of her wrists.

"I like working with you, too," Arthur told her easily. It was true, after all.

"Is that why you stole a kiss the last time?" she taunted.

His lips quirked. "Maybe."

Ariadne grabbed him by his belt loops and pulled him flush against her, an impish grin on her face. "Next time, don't be so coy."

Her kiss was quick but set his blood on fire, and Arthur for a moment felt like he was back in high school. She grinned at his expression, at the way his lips were still pursed for a kiss. He could feel the ghostly press of her lips against his. "Huh."

"You're speechless," she teased. "And here I thought you always had something witty to say."

"You haven't seen me even try," Arthur replied, fingers running down her arm. "Being on the run sometimes isn't conducive to repartee," he went on. "And there has been a distinct lack of fencing partners in the past few years." The look in his eyes was smoldering, and Ariadne's breath caught at what she saw there. "But maybe my luck is about to change. Maybe all the bad names people have called me over the years aren't true at all."

She smiled, nodding. Whatever she would have said next was cut off by their extractor calling out in alarm. "Sounds like he's lost. I'd better show him the way out."

While she went off to live up to her name, Arthur looked around him again. Her work was excellent, with just enough detail to really make it feel comfortable and lived in, but not so much that it would be difficult to memorize.

His blood ran cold when he saw a culvert. She hadn't designed that into the space, and it was too hauntingly familiar. He used to dream of that culvert, when he was still able to. Not knowing why, he walked toward it. The feeling of dread increased exponentially with every step.

There was water in the culvert, as if it had just rained the night before. He walked along the path created by the concrete, water running past his shoes. They were suddenly sneakers, and he found his shoulders hunching a bit. He used to hide his height when he was a student, as if making himself a smaller target would keep him out of the line of fire. It had never worked; he knew too many people and far too many secrets for anyone's comfort. Brain had been like that, too, he remembered. Brain had been able to find out anything and obtain just about everything. A seventeen year old boy pinned between drug runners, the theater queens, administration and the various flavors of bullies would have been very motivated to use his connections to make the pain stop. Maybe he had used Brendan like a weapon once or twice, but it was only fair. Brain had gotten him out of impossible situations dozens of times, and had helped him get into illegal dream share when the military program Arthur had been assigned to was being liquidated with extreme prejudice.

Arthur stopped when he saw the pale hand lying in the water, the collection of blue bangles around the slim wrist. _I couldn't save you, Emily,_ he thought suddenly. _I'm sorry._

"What the hell is this?" their extractor said from above them. He was frowning in confusion, and Ariadne was looking down at Arthur in concern.

She knew it wasn't her design, that Arthur was pulling it into her dream and changing her layout. He was a powerful dreamer, and she wasn't guarding her thoughts at all. He hadn't meant to take over part of the design, but it had happened anyway. He hadn't done that since his earliest days learning dream share.

It was a memory, and she knew that. He could see it in her eyes, the way the concern was for him and not for the change in her maze.

"Time to go," Ariadne said abruptly, ignoring the question. "We've done enough here for today."

Arthur couldn't agree with her more.

***

Arthur knew he wouldn't be able to sidestep Ariadne for long; she had gone after Cobb's secrets with ruthless efficiency, and he didn't for a moment think that he would be exempt. He could possibly distract her with a complicated job, but even that wouldn't do it for long. A lie wouldn't placate her, either. She had always seemed to tell when he was evading the truth or flat out lying to her when they worked on the Fischer job.

It would have to be the truth, but he hadn't thought about the truth in _years._

He took a deep breath and took a hard look at himself in the mirror. He had come a long way since high school. He had been more idealistic then, even if he had come across as a pessimistic bastard to most of the denizens of the school. He talked a tough spiel, had lots of speeches and had always seemed to have plans. Brendan had moved on, locking away the hell of high school after Emily's death. He had gone by his middle name after leaving the army; it was nearly impossible to trace his steps after that, which had rather been the point at the time.

Arthur told himself that he was concerned because Ariadne was a relative innocent. Emily had been an innocent once, before she had fallen into the darker orbit of the Pin, before Brendan had any clue about the danger she had gotten into. He hadn't been able to save her, hadn't been able to do much more than take the missing brick and destroy the drug ring that had led to her death. He had promised himself he would never fall into the same trap again, but Cobb had ruined a great many plans without trying.

She wasn't like Laura, that was for certain. Laura had been beautiful, cool and collected. The social scene had waited on her every whim, and she had played everyone like finely tuned instruments. Even Brendan had followed her tune, even if he hadn't realized it at the time. He had known she wasn't good for him, but had ignored his instincts around her.

Arthur shut his eyes and spun away from the mirror. He wasn't the kid in the glasses taking a hit to prove a point anymore. He wasn't fast talking his way out of a situation he never should have gotten himself into. He was a grown man, more than competent with a dozen different ways of tracking, camouflaging or killing.

So she wasn't quite like Emily and she wasn't like Laura. Ariadne wasn't a helpless victim and she would never be heartless or cruel.

She was something completely new. How did he deal with that?

He wasn't a child, but he suddenly felt like one. Just the thought of facing Ariadne without knowing how to approach her was terrifying, and this was unlike him. She yanked his ground out from under him, upsetting his equilibrium. She wasn't even trying to, which was the worst part. Ariadne had no idea of the effect she was having on him, and even Arthur couldn't exactly explain it. She had a hold on him somehow, more than Emily had ever had.

He would have to face her sometime. Arthur finally decided it was like a bandage, ripping it off all at once. Best to get it over with.

It turned out that Arthur needn't have worried. When he met with Ariadne at her hotel room to discuss the incident in the culvert, she charged right ahead. "Arthur, look, I really appreciate the concern," she began before he could say a word. "I know you're worried about me, but you don't have to be _that_ worried."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, holding himself very still.

Ariadne played with the blue bangle at her wrist. "It's obvious, isn't it? I'm too new, and you're worried that's how I'll end up."

Arthur suddenly realized what she meant. All she could see was the pale arm and the blue bangles around Emily's wrist. Ariadne thought the projection was _her,_ and in true fashion hadn't let him explain.

"Ariadne..."

"I've taken self-defense lessons, of course. It isn't the same as handling a weapon or knowing kung fu. Eames told me that krav maga was the way to go, and I signed up for classes. Tiny girl living alone, no one questions why I'd want to take that." Ariadne leaned forward intently as she spoke. Arthur was hyperaware of her golden eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, a mild flush infusing her cheeks. She was gloriously alive, nothing like the pale and bloated corpse lying face down in the culvert.

He hadn't realized he was leaning forward to touch her until he felt that warmth for himself, his palm sliding across the curve of her cheek. Though he was startled by his own forward behavior, Ariadne seemed delighted by it.

Ariadne leaned farther forward and kissed Arthur. Though he had the urge to grab her and kiss her breathless, he kept himself reined in. He always held himself apart, which worked well for him professionally. In the past it had led to nothing but trouble, but that didn't seem to perturb Ariadne in the slightest.

Her mouth was warm against his, lips dry and soft. She brought her hands up to his shoulders, partly for balance and partly so that there was even more contact between them. Arthur still had a hand along her cheek, and let the other rest against her waist. The kiss was languorous and exploratory, nothing like the tense kiss during the Fischer job or the playful kiss she had given him earlier. This one held promise and the edge of desire.

Though Arthur had a good internal clock, he had no idea how long he spent just kissing Ariadne and stroking her face. She had a goofy grin on her face when they broke for air, leaning against each other. She turned her face to nuzzle his neck, and Arthur moved so that he was almost stroking her temple with his cheek and chin. "Is this what you thought it would be?" he found himself asking her.

She chuckled and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Um... Would you be upset if I told you I've thought about you a lot more naked?"

"Why would I be upset?"

"I know you work so hard to be so professional... This is so unprofessional..."

Arthur threaded his hands in her thick hair and tugged gently, making her tilt her head back so he could look her in the eye. "I always fulfill promises and get the job done. I always make sure that things work out as best as I can. That's true." He tilted his own head down so that his lips hovered just above hers. "But I _want,_ too. Sometimes I know I can't get it, sometimes I almost think I can."

"And in this case?"

He smiled at the breathless cast to her voice. "Didn't you tell me not to be so coy?"

She grinned. "I did."

"This is me not being coy."

Now his kiss was fierce and possessive, his tongue sliding into her mouth and taking command. He kept a firm grip on her hair, holding her in place. She couldn't move even if she wanted to, though it was fairly obvious that she didn't.

It didn't go farther than that, but intentions were clear for both of them.

Arthur kept his past and his thoughts firmly locked up after that.

***

Months passed faster than Arthur thought possible. The trill of the cell phone was enough to get Arthur to press it to his ear and utter a reasonable sounding "Hello?" though he still felt exhausted. He was between jobs, slowly going stir crazy even though taking a break on occasion was good for staying sharp. The only numbers able to connect to this particular cell phone – and with that particular ring, truth be told – were trusted contacts. Otherwise, the signal would bounce to a voice mail drop that he checked four times a day after taking pains to hide his location.

"Brendan."

"Brain."

Arthur was instantly awake, and sat up in the bed he was currently sharing with Ariadne. It had been months since his memories had bled out onto the job and he had thought of himself as Brendan. He had gotten comfortable being just Arthur again. Ariadne had continued with her playful advances and seemed to tolerate his professional distance. She understood there were things he couldn't talk about, and didn't press for more outside of jobs. She was uncomfortable with that long term; she had to be, though she hadn't said anything of the sort. Arthur knew the type. This was still fun and exciting, new enough to be distracting. Once Ariadne started thinking about the actual state of their relationship, how little she knew of him and how distant he could be, she would rethink the situation and leave.

Everyone else did. Arthur was biding his time until the inevitable, cherishing every moment together while it lasted.

"Sorry about waking you," Brain said, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "Normally I'd wait because of the time difference, but I'm going to be tied up when it's decent hours for you."

"It's fine. I'm awake," Arthur replied, rolling his shoulders around to loosen them up. The last time Brain had called him in the middle of the night, the Vory had been after him because of data that Cobb had extracted from their competition. He had managed to disable the men sent to seize him as blackmail material and get Cobb out of the country before the Vory knew what happened. Brain later had made sure that mangled bodies matching their descriptions were involved in a car wreck, ending that particular threat.

Ariadne snuffled in her sleep, then rolled over. Absently, Arthur ran a hand along her arm. Her lips curled into a slight smile as she burrowed into the pillow.

"It's your mother," Brain said without preamble. "I've been monitoring lines while you're away, and I got a hit on her medical records." Arthur had a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, but didn't say anything. Nothing he could say would change the outcome, and he had to start planning for the worst case scenario.

Brain continued speaking, voice brisk as he flipped through his notes. "Results are back, and it's definitely cancer. Her doctors haven't even contacted her with results yet." He paused for a moment, then continued. "Look, Brendan... It's been a while since your last visit, almost a year. She's been doing badly in that time. I've ducked in, but I'm not the one she wants to see. Prognosis is bad, on the order of months."

"Months," Arthur echoed, a faint edge of disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah," Brain answered, voice flat. "What are you going to do?"

"I'll have to book a flight." There was no joy in Arthur's voice, and he abruptly got up out of bed to move to the window. The sky outside was just starting to lighten, the approaching dawn painting everything with an almost surreal edge to the colors.

"I'll see you when you're back in the neighborhood."

Arthur hung up and held the phone loosely in his hand, watching the sun come up.

Ariadne stirred when she shivered; Arthur had forgotten about the covers and left them pulled aside when he got up. She rubbed at her eyes when she sat up, then frowned when she saw Arthur standing at the window. His expression was more drawn and distant than usual, jaw tight in concentration. Something had happened, and she could only guess that he wouldn't want to talk about it yet. If ever.

Instead of asking about it as she might have even months ago, she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his back. It clearly startled him, but he laid his hands over hers in a tight grip. They remained silent, standing there in the early morning sunlight.

"I need to get back to the United States," Arthur said after a small eternity, voice leaden.

"What's happened?" Ariadne asked quietly, voice nearly muffled by the muscles of his back.

Arthur paused long enough that Ariadne nearly thought he wouldn't answer her. "My mother's dying. Cancer. All those cigarettes..."

She pressed her lips against his back. "I'll go with you," she murmured. "You don't have to go through it alone."

"Why would you do that?" he asked, no inflection in his tone.

"Because she's your mother, and you're important to me." Neither had used the dreaded L word, and she wasn't about to be the first, especially not at a moment like this.

Arthur bowed his head slightly, then nodded. "Then I'll book you a ticket, too. I don't know when we'd get back to Europe, or when the next job will be..."

"It doesn't matter," Ariadne told him. She pressed her lips to his spine and kept her forehead touching his back. "We're not together because of a job. It's because we want to be." At least, she hoped it was. Arthur was impossible to read, and it was frustrating sometimes.

"Yeah," he murmured, and Ariadne hoped it was confirmation of her statement.

Neither moved from the spot for a long time.

***

Coming back to his childhood home was dreadful and comforting at the same time. It was always that way, but this visit was even worse. Ariadne was with him, but it didn't stop all of his awkward emotions from flooding him. If anything, her presence only seemed to heighten the confusion he sometimes felt around her. He was vulnerable here in a way that he wasn't when tied up and being beaten for information. Arthur was already regretting the visit, but his mother was ill. As dreadful as his memories of this place had become, she was the only family he had, and she had tried her best. 

Ariadne drank in the sight of the town he had grown up in, not saying a word. While she didn't honestly expect him to go to one of the massive mansions, detouring past the comfortably middle class homes did surprise her. She remained silent as they approached the rundown looking apartment complex, Arthur's hands tightening on the steering wheel. She rested her hand lightly on his thigh in support. His jaw loosened but his hands didn't.

The brick façade of the complex might have looked homey and inviting when new, but it hadn't been up kept in some time. The shutters near windows were white or green, and many of them had peeling paint. The entire complex seemed to carry an air of tired despair, as if its residents had long since given up on obtaining anything any better in life. Ariadne had seen plenty of places like that, but hadn't thought Arthur came from a place like that. It made sense after a fashion; he would work that much harder to be sure he wouldn't ever have to return.

Arthur seemed to come to himself once he parked. "Shit. I didn't mean to come here."

Ariadne blinked at his angry tone. "What?"

"Mom doesn't live here anymore. I've sent money back, and she's living in a nicer place now."

"So what's this?" Ariadne asked, confused.

Lips pressed tightly together, Arthur's expression shuttered. "I grew up here."

"Oh." She patted his leg gently. "Well, let's go see your Mom, then. Maybe we can take her to lunch or something."

Arthur backed out and started driving to a different area in town. It was a much nicer area, and the apartment complex here was well cared for. Many windows had little flower boxes in them, and even the building materials seemed a little more upscale. Arthur headed for a door near the edge of the complex and felt above the frame for a key. He used it to enter the apartment, replacing the key and gesturing for Ariadne to precede him inside.

The apartment was tidy, with worn furniture and framed photos on the walls. There was Arthur at various stages of his life, including a picture of him in full military dress. Ariadne gravitated toward that one; Arthur seemed impossibly young in it, and seemed so stoic compared to the other photos of his younger self. It looked as though there had been a gap in photos from middle school to his graduation from the military. She wondered why that was, but Arthur was gone when she turned her head to ask.

Ariadne followed the sound of coughing in one of the other rooms. "Mom," she heard Arthur say clearly. "Hey. Were you working again last night?"

"Still on third shift, Brendan," came a tired voice. Ariadne could hear the smile in it, and hovered near the doorway. "Oh. You brought a friend with you? You should've told me. I could get the couch made up..."

"It's okay, Mom," Arthur said, voice gentler than Ariadne had heard it in a long time. "She's sharing a room with me."

Arthur's mother had short, dark hair and sharp, bony features. She had the same dark eyes as Arthur, but the shape of her nose and mouth were different. She pushed herself up to a sitting position and smiled at Arthur. "Brendan. She must be important, then. You haven't talked about any girlfriends since Emily."

Ariadne didn't miss the twitch in Arthur's jaw and wondered who Emily was. "Mom, this is Ariadne," Arthur said, gesturing toward Ariadne. "Ariadne, this is my mother."

She introduced herself as Charlotte Frye, and there was another round of coughing as she adjusted her position in bed. "Sorry. I got maybe four hours of sleep," Charlotte said, looking at the clock. "It was a rough night at work. Want me to get you something?"

"We can go out for lunch and let you sleep," Arthur told her, patting her hand.

"Nonsense! You just got here. I'll make some coffee and you can tell me whatever isn't classified about your travels."

Arthur sighed as his mother swung her legs out from under the covers. "Mom. You need your rest. I can take care of myself, you know."

Charlotte's expression was sad as she touched Arthur's face. "I know. You've always had to, Brendan. Just let me do _something_ for you."

Ariadne thought of the pictures in the living room. There were no pictures of siblings or a father figure, only Arthur and occasionally Arthur with his mother. She retreated to the living room with Arthur to let his mother dress. It was easy to see where some of Arthur's stubbornness had come from. "Are you all right?" she asked in a low tone of voice.

He swung empty eyes her way, and she was suddenly struck by how young he seemed in person now. Though there was only a three year difference in their ages, sometimes Ariadne thought that it was a much larger gap. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked. His voice was flat, as if it didn't matter what her answer was.

Charlotte entered the living room then, dressed in jeans and a faded T shirt emblazoned with the West Point logo. She smiled warmly at them despite the fact that she was obviously exhausted, and puttered around in the kitchen to make sandwiches. Arthur told her about different cities in Europe, that Cobb had successfully retired and was with his children full time now. He described Ariadne as a consultant that he worked with, one that was starting to build up a name for herself in the industry. That compliment surprised her; she hadn't been aware that the dream share community really noticed her work.

The three of them sat around the small kitchen table, and Charlotte soaked up every word that Arthur spoke. Ariadne noticed that his shoulders were hunched a little and occasionally he rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he was trying to push up a pair of glasses. There was still his usual reserve and detachment, but his behavior was similar to his mother's. She smiled more, but there had not yet been a hug. It was obvious how much she loved Arthur, but the affection wouldn't have been as easy to see if Ariadne didn't know Arthur well.

Charlotte went back to bed after lunch, letting Arthur know that his room was still as he had left it at his last visit. "I don't even dust in there, just in case you forgot any of your state secrets in there," she had joked. She lifted her hand in a half wave, then disappeared back into her bedroom to sleep through the afternoon.

Arthur had a stony expression on his face as he moved to the other bedroom in the apartment, and Ariadne frowned at his back. "Arthur."

"I'll need to start cleaning up so we have space to sleep," he said, not even pausing.

"Arthur."

"It shouldn't take me long to get new sheets," he continued, starting to strip the bed with practiced efficiency. It was a full mattress, though there was a blanket and pillows on the floor between the bed and the wall.

_"Brendan."_

Now Arthur turned around. His shoulders were still rounded, and he stared at her with his expression haunted. "I haven't been here in a year," he said in flat tones. "I'll need to clean up in here before we can sleep tonight. I'm surprised Mom got as much done with the rest of the apartment. But then, maybe she got one of the neighbors to help."

Ariadne strode forward and took the sheets from his hands. Whatever she wanted to say about his demeanor went unsaid. "Tell me where the laundry room is, and I'll get this started while you dust and vacuum."

He stiffly gave her directions to the laundry room in the complex, and she left him cleaning his old room while she laundered whatever he gave her. The laundry room was empty and quiet that time of day, and Ariadne stood there watching the washing machine after she set it to start rather than heading immediately back. This place got to Arthur – she still thought of him that way and not as Brendan, even if it was clearly the name he had been born with – and Ariadne could only imagine that it was due to loneliness or painful memories. She rather doubted that Charlotte would know anything about it.

"Hey," Arthur said behind her.

Ariadne half turned as he entered the laundry room. "Hey."

"It's a small room. It doesn't ever take long to clean."

She nodded as he came to stand next to her. "It looked almost dorm room sized."

They fell into an awkward and uncomfortable silence, and Ariadne was determined not to break it, no matter how much she wanted to. This wasn't her home turf, and Arthur was the one that seemed to want to say something. He didn't seem to know how to go about it, and it was one of the few times that Ariadne had ever seen him look unsure of himself.

"What happened here? You seem to hate this place so much."

Arthur's expression grew even more shuttered, if that was possible. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You're upset and you're not yourself. I want to help…"

"There's nothing going on here," Arthur said shortly, jaw tight. His expression was cold, eyes narrowed. She had seen that expression while he was on the job, but never directed at her. "You're creating a problem to fix. I'm not Cobb. You don't get to barge your way into my life and start making changes."

Ariadne visibly recoiled from him. "This isn't like you..."

"Who are you to make a judgment on that?" His lip actually curled into a sneer. "Suddenly you think you're an expert on human behavior? When even psychologists can't get anything right? That's rather arrogant of you."

She pulled away and considered stalking out of the laundry room. Hell, she considered heading straight for the airport and returning to her tiny apartment in Paris. She wasn't about to tolerate this kind of cold dismissal, treating her the same way he treated errant subjects they worked on in dreams. Ariadne was supposed to be more important to him than that.

As she turned, his frozen expression in the corner of her eye, she caught the slump of his shoulders. He wasn't standing as rigidly tall as usual. His shoulders sloped inward as they never did when he was Arthur on a job. It was more like when he was sitting with his mother, telling her what she wanted to hear. He was fine, he was successful, he was safe. Ariadne had known that every word about his actual job had been a lie, but she had gone along with his lies for Charlotte's sake.

Ariadne was staring at Brendan. He was defending himself against her intrusion the only way he knew how, though she didn't understand _why._

"Why do you want me to leave like this, Arthur?" she asked in a soft voice. "Is it really that horrible to need someone? To care?"

"Who asked you to care, Ariadne? Whatever pop psychology course you took doesn't mean you know me or understand me. You're making up problems to push your way into my head, and I won't have it." His lip curled in a derisive expression, and Ariadne wanted to slap his face. She wanted to scream at him that she was better than that, she wasn't some doormat for him to look down on, she wasn't some sickly woman he had to coddle.

"Even this morning, if you asked me," Ariadne began in a clear but pained tone, "I would have said I loved you."

He blinked, though his expression remained frozen. "Would have," he echoed numbly.

"You're that determined to push me away and make me hate you." She turned back to stare at his blank expression. "Shutting me out won't change things. You're hurting, Arthur. Keeping it in won't change why it hurts and it will only fester." She thought she saw a twitch by his eye, but couldn't be sure. Crossing her arms beneath her breasts, she clenched her jaw. "I won't allow you to treat me this way. I've never forced you to talk about anything before and I've never called you on your bullshit. That's what this is, Arthur. It's bullshit. You're better than this. But if you're determined to be an asshole for no good reason, I'm not going to take it. As much as it'll hurt, I'd leave until you get your shit together."

Arthur's eyes flicked toward the door. "There it is."

Ariadne held his gaze for a moment. She hadn't thought he would say something like that, but he was a stubborn bastard sometimes. Her chest felt tight as she nodded stiffly at him. "For the record, the bitch that worked you over is long since gone," Ariadne told him. There was a faint tremor in her knees from the adrenaline coursing through her. "Was it Emily? Was that why you looked upset when your mother mentioned her?"

Arthur merely glared at her, jaw tight. He didn't say a word.

Ariadne pressed her lips together unhappily. "Goodbye, Arthur," she said.

He didn't say anything, but watched her turn and start to walk past him to leave the room. She had nothing with her, no way to leave this place and get back to the airport since he had the keys to the rental car. She would figure out the details later. Right now her chest hurt as if it would explode if she was around him any longer.

"I hated it here," he said abruptly when she reached the doorway. Ariadne paused but didn't turn around or say anything. She was waiting expectantly, head tilted just enough so that she could see him out of her peripheral vision. Arthur's shoulders were even more hunched, his hands on the table with a white knuckled grip. "I was by myself a lot. Mom worked nights, so I barely saw her while growing up." He didn't look at her. "I had to learn how to do things for myself and make it work. She couldn't come in for meetings at school, after all."

"Sounds lonely," Ariadne murmured.

"I had friends." There was an almost defensive note as he turned to look at her. "I was busy."

"But with no one here when you got back..."

"I wasn't always here either," Arthur replied. He turned back to watch the washing machine, and Ariadne turned around. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. She wasn't about to return to his side just yet.

"You never liked keeping still even then, I gather," Ariadne said. She was trying to keep her tone noncommittal, trying to hold herself as still and nonthreatening as possible. He was brittle, more so than she had realized, and if she said or did something to upset his equilibrium further, he would shatter and shut her out completely.

For all she said she would leave him, it would still devastate her if he did that.

"I got involved with things once I got to high school, kept busy." He thought of Kara suddenly, lips twisting slightly in distaste. "Theater didn't work out. Didn't have the right kind of attitude to keep myself useful there."

"You don't strike me as a theater geek," Ariadne commented when he fell silent.

"No, that wasn't my kind of crowd. It ate up freshmen and spat them out after extracting anything useful or amusing. But the main players there were the movers and shakers in the school, with ties to all of the other cliques. They moved information for a price, usually one that people found too high to pay but paid anyway."

Ariadne wondered who had burned him so badly in the theater group, but didn't ask the question aloud. It seemed to set the tone for how he viewed the world after high school. "Was Emily in the theater?" she asked.

Arthur looked at her sharply. "No, she wasn't."

When he fell silent, Ariadne looked back to the washing machine. "My high school didn't have a theater program. They barely had a viable art program due to budget cuts. There was the usual focus on sports, specifically basketball and football. There was that kind of jock worship, since the art kids didn't really contribute much to the school's reputation. I was a math tutor, and I had to run sessions for two of the football players." She pursed her lips, remembering what that had been like. "I'm sure you know the type, the kind that thinks the entire school belongs to them and can't understand that life after high school is completely different."

Arthur turned to face her. "So what happened?"

"Remember those self-defense classes I mentioned?" He nodded and she smiled faintly, her heart not in it. "They didn't realize that they shouldn't underestimate me. I play dirty when I put my mind to it." He didn't smile in return as she hoped, and Ariadne wanted to reach out and touch his arm gently. Instead, she remained still. "Arthur."

"There will always be people that play dirty. Some of them do it all the time, regardless of the consequences or who gets hurt along the way."

If this was an odd conversation to be having in the laundry room in the middle of the afternoon, neither seemed to realize that. "So was Emily that kind?"

"Emily..." His voice trailed off after a moment. "No. No, she wasn't. She... She got involved with a different crowd after a while."

There was something in Arthur's voice that made Ariadne look at him in concern. "What happened to her?"

"She died."

Ariadne uncrossed her arms but stayed where she was, her heart frozen in her chest. There was something he wasn't telling her, something she was missing. Emily had been someone important; his mother wouldn't have mentioned her by name and Arthur wouldn't be reacting this way otherwise. It gave her the impression that this was the way he acted in high school, and detachment was the way he protected himself from whatever went wrong. "Sorry."

"You didn't know her."

"But she was important to you." Ariadne wanted to lean in closer and press a kiss to his cheek; she took a step forward instead. "There aren't many people like that in the world."

Her voice carried no recriminations and she didn't ask if she was one of them. The fact that she was even in his home town was enough to tell her that she counted. She had to hold onto that much, even if his demeanor had grown frosty.

"Ariadne..."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." She looked at him evenly, willing him to trust her with whatever bothered him. "It's all right. My problem is you treating me as if my concerns and opinions don't matter to you, as if I'm worthless."

"She thought I held her on a pedestal," Arthur said abruptly. "She hated how I acted and said that I thought I was above everyone else. She said she was just as messed up and broken as everyone else, and she could never live up to the way I saw her. So she left and wouldn't tell me when she got into trouble until it was too late. The group she'd gotten involved with..." He remained very, very still, though she could see the pain in his eyes. "I couldn't save her."

"Did she want to be saved?" Ariadne asked quietly.

Arthur's jaw tightened fractionally. "They used her," he said tightly. "They used her and left her dead because I couldn't figure it out in time." He looked over at her with hollow eyes. "The most I could do was make sure they got caught."

"You can't save everyone, Arthur," Ariadne told him in a soft voice. "Especially if they don't want to be saved."

He shook his head. "You don't understand. She had been in trouble. She wanted me to help."

"Was it the kind of help you wanted to give?" she asked, eyebrow raised. Arthur bristled slightly, but didn't say anything. "If she thought she was messed up and broken enough to leave you," Ariadne continued, echoing his words, "then she wouldn't have wanted you to swoop in and rescue her from it all, just the part where she was in trouble." Ariadne chanced another step forward, enough to bring her to the other side of the table. "Not everyone is lost or willing to screw others over to get what they want."

Arthur didn't reply, but there was a stubborn cast to his jaw. Ariadne leaned in and kissed his mouth lightly. Though he didn't respond as he usually did, she didn't take it personally. She had attacked his perception of Emily, who likely had wounded him much more deeply than he would ever want to admit.

He looked at her evenly, and for a moment Ariadne thought he was looking _through_ her, seeing someone else. She wondered if she would have to leave anyway.

It was uncomfortable, baring even these fragments for her. He wanted to push her away, push her out of his life. She would never come back if he did that. Maybe in time he could repair their relationship enough to work together or be friends, but he would utterly destroy any potential future they would have together. Ariadne was too direct for his comfort, too blunt and outspoken to remain silent in the face of his distress. On some level he had to have known that; it had taken him months to work out that Cobb had done anything to Mal, and it had only taken weeks for Ariadne to discover the entire story. She was tenacious and curious, almost too much for her own good. She wasn't vicious or cruel about it, and he knew she would never wield his secrets like a weapon, but it felt like she was taking a sledgehammer to his chest.

"You're not like her," Arthur said, apropos of nothing. "You're not like anyone else."

"I'll take that a compliment, considering they all seem like they hurt you."

He wanted to recoil and deny it, but there was a measure of truth in the statement. "I don't talk about things."

"I've noticed, yes."

"There are things I will never want you to know."

Ariadne took a chance and grasped his face in her hands. He didn't flinch away from her, so she counted that as a victory of sorts. "For a job, I can accept that without question. It's different in a relationship. If your secrets don't impact me, won't hurt me and don't make you shut me out completely as if I'm a child, I can accept that. I won't like it, but I will accept it to a point." She could see something like relief in his eyes that she wouldn't push. "I won't let you beat yourself up, either. We have to find a compromise."

 _I don't know if I can,_ Arthur wanted to say. _I'd rather lose you than hurt you or wind up the cause of your death._

He couldn't say the words. _Couldn't._

Ariadne stayed as still as he was, unwilling to move or say anything else. It felt like a battle of wills. If she moved, she was weaker willed and would lose. She had to hold her ground against him. For some reason, it felt like the only way he would actually respect her and believe that she wasn't some kind of fragile creature he had to freeze out of his life to protect.

"You can't do it, can you?" she asked sadly, letting go of him. She straightened up with a barely audible sigh. "Then I'll get my things and get out of your way."

"You're not in my way."

"Of course I am," Ariadne replied, voice still sad. "You can't be a solitary martyr if I'm around, and that image means more to you."

"You'd be sorry if you stayed," he told her, absolutely meaning it.

Something twisted in her chest at the words, but she couldn't tell what emotion it was. She could tell him she was sorry she met him, sorry she fell for him, sorry she thought she might have actually meant something to him. Their relationship would irrevocably be over then, and Ariadne had the feeling it might have been what Emily had done all those years ago.

Instead, she gave him a vicious shove, pushing him from the table. "You don't get to decide what I feel. You don't get to choose what I regret. I'm an adult, _Brendan,_ not a child. I'm not her, and I won't let you punish me for her mistakes."

Arthur was slack jawed in shock. "You pushed me."

"Do you only understand pain and violence? You're more than that and capable of more than just shutting me out."

She wasn't saying _open up or you'll lose me forever;_ that was too dramatic, and he understood her just the same.

"I won't be the reason you die."

"Well, that's pretty damn arrogant of you," Ariadne snapped. "I'm capable of making my own mistakes and causing my own death, thank you very much. I know the risks of the job. I'm choosing to take them anyway. It's called personal fucking responsibility."

They stared at each other for a long time, locked at an impasse.

Finally, Arthur looked away first. "I've lost everyone else I care about," he said slowly. "I'm losing my mother. I can't lose you, too."

Ariadne came to his side and wrapped her arms around him. After a brief hesitation, he wrapped his arms tightly around her as well. "Then let me in, Arthur," she said softly. "You can't lose me if I'm right next to you."

"You won't like what you see."

"Let me be the judge of that," she murmured, kissing his jaw. "I can think for myself, you know."

He did know, and now he was only just realizing that he _couldn't_ predict her responses at all. It terrified the everliving fuck out of him.

When he remained silent, still holding her tightly, Ariadne moved to thread her fingers through his hair. "I won't say that everything's going to be all right, because that's patronizing and not true." She pressed her lips to his temple as his hands tightened around her painfully. Arthur might not have been comfortable speaking to her about feelings or the past, but this gesture on his part was the equivalent of a scream. "We'll be together through it. I'll help you as much as you let me."

"Why? Why are you staying with me?"

"Because I love you," Ariadne said simply. "And that's what you do if you love someone. Life isn't easy or simple. Sometimes it's just fucked up. But if you love someone, you stick around and try to make it work. I'm willing to do that for you."

Arthur let out a shuddering breath and let go of her. His posture was stiff, but his gaze was finally clear and not haunted. "I'm willing to try."

"I'll take it," Ariadne told him, reaching out to touch his arm gently. "Come on. You know the area around here. We should pick up something for dinner when your mother wakes up. We should do something nice as a thank you, don't you think?" She gave him a smile, trying to encourage him to continue in this vein. "What should we get?"

"A pizza would be good enough," he admitted reluctantly. "Mom doesn't exactly have a refined palate when it comes to food."

"Well, we can do better than that. Maybe we'll go grocery shopping, then. I'll whip up something for her and see how she likes it."

"You don't have to do that."

She waved off his protest. "Not a big deal. Shall we?"

That managed to throw Arthur for a loop again, and Ariadne was feeling almost sorry for Arthur. Being here was ruining his equilibrium, and he was no longer the self-assured point man she was used to seeing. It brought out her protective urges, and she seriously wanted to shake Emily for breaking Arthur. Oh, he would never admit that he had been broken by his experience with Emily at all. He had to be strong for everyone around him. But he would never react this way if it had been a healthy relationship.

"It should be fine," Arthur said after a moment. "I'll show you around."

Given how things were a half hour ago, Ariadne wanted to jump for joy. This was practically Arthur declaring his undying love and loyalty. Every journey began with the smallest of steps, and this was his.

Arthur seemed to unwind a bit as he showed her random things. He was most tense near the high school. He was almost back to his usual self while grocery shopping, laughing at one of her inane jokes in the produce aisle.

His mood died when a black woman with short hair dressed in a button down blouse and slacks approached them. "Brendan?" she asked in disbelief, an odd smile on her face. "That _is_ you, isn't it?"

He gave her a cool stare. "You are?"

The woman laughed, but it wasn't entirely pleasant and set Ariadne's teeth on edge. "Oh, it's you all right, Brendan. Don't tell me you don't remember me. I'm Kara. I teach at the local college now. You did turn out nicely after all." Her smile wasn't terribly sincere as she came closer, a few items in the basket on her arm. "We had such a time in your formative years, hm?" If anything, her smile seemed to take on a more sinister quality, and Ariadne shifted position to unconsciously block Arthur from her path. 

Ariadne gave her a cool look. "It can't have been that pleasant if you're so forgettable."

"Who's this?" she asked, voice sharp as she finally took in Ariadne.

If Arthur was startled by the fierce look on Ariadne's face, he didn't show it. "Someone that matters, Kara."

Kara's expression froze. "You haven't changed at all."

"Neither have you."

After a glare at Arthur, Kara turned and walked away. Ariadne looked from her to Arthur and then shook her head. "If everyone was like that at your school, no wonder you stayed away." She turned and lifted a bunch of bananas. "Think your Mom would like it if I made her some banana bread as dessert?"

It took Arthur a moment to answer her; he hadn't expected that kind of response from Ariadne at all. Emily had wanted desperately to be friends with people like Kara and had been afraid of what they would say. Laura had been just like her.

"She's more of a sweets person," he said after a moment.

"I'll add whipped cream, then," Ariadne replied with a smile, scribbling it onto her shopping list.

"You don't have to do this," Arthur murmured softly, reaching out to grasp her arm. His head was bowed slightly and his shoulders were slumped.

Ariadne had the urge to ruffle his hair but suppressed it. "I know," she said with a warm smile as she leaned in on tip toes to kiss his cheek. "I want to."

"Thank you," Arthur murmured, hand tightening on her arm fractionally.

"You're very welcome."

***

Charlotte was delighted by dinner, making Ariadne grin with thanks. She was a bit more vocal with her praise than Arthur was, and the three of them wound up talking about food, the way the neighborhood had changed since Arthur was a teenager and how Charlotte had been at the same third shift manufacturing job since Arthur was ten. Ariadne had spared a glance at Arthur then, trying to imagine what that must have been like, to be alone in the house overnight, then essentially alone after school at the age of ten. She knew that when she was ten, she was doing book reports at the kitchen table while her father cooked dinner and her mother was either doing her shift in the emergency room or helping clear the counters and table. Her friends had thought it was odd that her mother was the one with the more changeable schedule, but it had been normal for Ariadne. She hadn't thought twice about her mother being a nurse and having odd hours. Maybe it was the same way for Arthur.

The difference was, she hadn't been alone for endless hours. She hadn't needed to learn to withdraw as a way to cope with problems.

Ariadne was helping to clear the dishes away after dinner when Charlotte finished her glass of juice and smiled warmly at Arthur. "She's a definite keeper, Brendan. So much better for you than Emily was, the poor dear. You were both much too young to be so serious, anyway." She started rummaging around in her purse for a pack of cigarettes and missed the way Arthur seemed to freeze in place at the words. "Did you know, she told me once while you were dating that your intensity scared her? She didn't think much of herself," Charlotte added after a moment, lighting up and inhaling deeply. "Didn't listen to me at all. But then, what do I know, I just lived a little longer than she had."

Ariadne came back to the table, holding her breath against the smoke and a potential outburst from Arthur. But he merely sat there with his spine ramrod straight and his hands clenched into fists in his lap. She rested a hand over his fist, a gentle reminder that she was there with him and he didn't have to deal with his frustration alone.

Though maybe she was starting to understand why he wasn't comfortable opening up.

Charlotte smiled at her son, not seeing the tension for what it was. "You've done so well over the years, Brendan. I worried a little about you in high school, when Emily went missing. Mrs. Johnson said she saw you out at all hours or looked beaten up. Nosy little witch, thinking there was something wrong with you. You were fine, though. Maybe more quiet when I was home, but you were in high school. You were busy with school. I knew you wouldn't tell me all your secrets anyway. Sometimes you looked like you were plotting something." She laughed a little and took another deep drag of her cigarette. "But you were fine, and it all turned out okay in the end. It always has, and it always will."

"I suppose it did," Arthur said in careful, inflection-free tones.

"Well, I should get ready for work. I might see you both in the morning."

Ariadne watched her leave the kitchen to get changed in her room. She looked back at Arthur with a slight frown in her brows. "Is she always so...?" Ariadne gestured in the direction that Charlotte had gone off in. "Oblivious, I guess?"

"Yeah."

Leaning in to kiss his cheek, Ariadne gave his fist a squeeze. "You're all right, Arthur." She didn't know what else to say.

"Of course I am," he replied, eyebrow arching as if she had said something profoundly silly. "I'm not sick."

Ariadne wanted to give the back of his head a smack. He was being willfully obtuse. Instead, she kissed his cheek again and then went to the sink to start washing the dishes. They fell into a steady quiet rhythm, him drying the dishes as she washed them or putting them into the tiny drying rack that his mother had. Charlotte was pleased there wouldn't be anything for her to clean up when she returned, then sailed out of the door.

This wasn't quite the family reunion she had expected it to be.

"What did you used to do in the evening?" Ariadne asked as she finished up.

"I was out, usually. Sometimes over at Brain's, sometimes just out." He didn't quite meet her gaze as he dried the last pan.

"Or you were with Emily?" Ariadne gave him a sad smile. "I'm not jealous of the past, Arthur."

"You keep calling me Arthur when you know my given name is Brendan," he said, sidestepping the mention of Emily.

"It's how you introduced yourself when I met you. And that's who you are now, isn't it?"

Arthur put the pan away and turned to look at her. "It doesn't bother you?"

"That you go by one name and not the one you were born with?" She snorted and rolled her eyes at him. "Please. With what you do for a living, I didn't expect Arthur to be your birth name. I'd pick a different name for myself if people didn't already think this was an alias." She gave him a pointed look. "So your family isn't story book perfect. It's all right. Most aren't."

"Someday you'll walk out," he said quietly. "Everyone does sooner or later."

"I'm not like them," she returned just as quietly. "Haven't you figured that out yet?"

He met her gaze with possibly the most vulnerable expression she had ever seen. "I know you're not them. You're nothing like them." _I just haven't figured out why you're still here._

"Then stop comparing me," Ariadne said clearly. "I know you and I can practically see you doing it. You think of a dozen different things at once, plan ten steps ahead..." She rested her hand on his chest. "I'm not them, so I won't act like them." She gave him a quirky smile. "I probably screw up all your plans, don't I?"

Arthur gave her a wry smile in response to the smile she gave him. "From the very start."

Ariadne laughed. "I get that a lot. It's okay." She patted his chest. "It's more fun if you don't actually know what's coming next, isn't it?"

"I'm not sure about that one," he replied. The wary look he shot her made her laugh even harder.

She wrapped her arms around him again, pulling him down so that she could kiss him. "We'll be all right, Arthur. We'll make it work."

"Things have never worked out for me before," Arthur admitted.

"You weren't with me before," she replied, keeping her tone light. She didn't let on how much that comment made her feel sad for him. She went to rummage in the fridge and held up the cream. "More dessert?"

"I'm full," he protested, shaking his head.

Ariadne's smile turned downright filthy. "I wasn't thinking about that kind of dessert."

Arthur nearly gaped at her. No, this was definitely not what he had predicted at all. Maybe she had a point. He could worry about his mother dying or Ariadne leaving him later. Neither happened yet, and wouldn't for quite some time. As he followed Ariadne to the bedroom, Arthur thought perhaps this time he could let things go.

At least for tonight. Tomorrow would likely bring its own disasters with it. He would deal with them then.

The End


End file.
